


That Way

by taispeantas_laethuil



Series: Tiamat Cadash [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taispeantas_laethuil/pseuds/taispeantas_laethuil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cadash may have made some incorrect assumptions about Dorian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Way

"Wait, really?"  
  
Dorian had been braced for such a question since he'd read his father's letter. He'd just been braced for it to be asked in a derisive tone, or more optimistically, in confusion. 'Glee' had not made the short list. It hadn't made the list at all.   
  
He turned to face the Inquisitor, who looked as though all his Satinalias had come at once. Clearly, he did not understand what was going on here at all.  
  
“Yes, really,” Dorian clarified. “The company of men, as in sex. Surely you’ve heard of it? Or shall I draw you a diagram?”  
  
“No need!” Cadash practically chirruped, with a dazzling grin that nearly split his face in half. “I’ve more than heard of it.”  
  
“Well,” Dorian replied, momentarily thrown off balance by the enthusiasm of the admission. “I can’t wait to see how they write _that_ into the Chant.”  
  
Across the tavern, his father was frowning. Dorian didn’t need to turn to see it, he could hear it, his disapproval practically echoing around the deserted room. “This display is uncalled for,” he chided.   
  
“What display?” Dorian demanded, as he might very well be the most reasonable person in the room at present.   
  
Father flicked his eyes down to Cadash, who was still beaming. “I should have know it would be like this.”  
  
Dorian’s temper flared, and well. ‘Reasonable’ could be a rather relative term, couldn’t it? “No. You don’t get to make those sort of assumptions. Not about anyone, and especially not the Inquisitor.”  
  
“Oh no, he can totally make those assumptions,” insisted Cadash, who was clearly having an entirely different conversation. “We should all be making more assumptions, that’s the moral of this story here, I think.” He might as well have been on an entirely different planet.   
  
“This isn’t what I wanted,” Father said.   
  
“I am _never_ what you wanted,” Dorian hissed. “Or have you forgotten.”  
  
“Or not,” Cadash chimed in. “Or I could not make assumptions and just ask: is this really all over who you sleep with?”  
  
Dorian snorted bitterly. “That’s not _all_ it’s about.”  
  
“Dorian, please.” His father was doing a good impression of pleading, Dorian could give him that much. “If you’d only listen to me-”  
  
“Why?” Dorian demanded. “So you can spout more convenient lies?”  
  
“Dorian-”  
  
“No,” Dorian interrupted. “No, enough. You want to talk? Well, I want a witness.” He turned back to Cadash, who, at least, had stopped grinning. “He taught me to hate blood magic. ‘The last resort of the weak mind.’ Those are his words.”   
  
Cadash was watching him seriously, mouth obscured by beard and mustache now that he was no longer smiling, rendering his face difficult to read. Dorian turned back to his father, whose opinions were already quite plain. “But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life?” He was gesturing wildly, tears blurring his vision and threatening to fall and become the icing on this horrible, terrible, no good very bad cake of a day.“You tried to _change_ me.”   
  
“Wait,” said Cadash flatly. “He fucking what.”  
  
“I only wanted what was best for you,” Father told him.   
  
“You wanted what was best for _you_!” Dorian corrected him. “For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!”  
  
He leaned heavily against the bar, and just. Breathed, in and out. He was tired. So very, very tired.   
  
Cadash reached up and touched his elbow. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said.

* * *

“So... funny story,” Cadash said later, when Dorian was trying- albeit without much success- to get his emotions back under control.   
  
“You have a funny story,” Dorian replied flatly. “Which you wish to tell me. Now.”  
  
He considered that response to be more than fair, and to judge by the way his head was bobbling, Cadash agreed.   
  
“Yeah, a funny story,” he said. “Here it is: I thought for sure that you were after Cassandra.”  
  
It spoke to the emotional toll of the day that Dorian’s first response was to ask what it was of Cassandra that Cadash had thought he was after. Then, thankfully, his brain began functioning again, so what actually came out of his mouth was far less asinine. “I-you-what- _Cassandra_?”  
  
“Yeah, I mean- you’re always flirting with her-”  
  
“Only because it’s so much fun to see her flustered,” Dorian protested.   
  
“And you’re so aggressive at the Bull. I thought maybe you were jealous of-”  
  
“I am not _aggressive_ at the Bull!” Really, this was too much on top of already too much. “And even if I were, it wouldn’t be because I was jealous of the way his flirts ham-fistedly with her as well as me.”  
  
“So I was figuring that you were into women, specifically pining after Cassandra-”  
  
“Why Cassandra? I flirt with a lot of people-”  
  
“You flirt with a lot of women!”  
  
“Well it’s not like I _dislike_ women,” Dorian protested. “There are plenty of marvelous people in the world who happen to be women. Simply because I do not feel the attraction does not mean that they should be denied my charm.”  
  
“And you are very charming! Which is why I was pining for you while I thought you were pining after Cassandra.”  
  
Dorian opened his mouth to retort, found he had none ready, and then spent a moment considering what it was that Cadash had actually said.   
  
“What?” he finally managed to croak out.   
  
“And that’s my funny story!” Cadash finished. “Just thought you might like to hear it.”  
  
He patted Dorian companionably on the arm and then retreated back to the campfire where the others were sitting. Dorian gaped after him.   
  
It wasn’t though he’d never noticed Cadash before. He had! The man was rather distressingly burly, it was a bit difficult not to notice him. He'd even noticed that he didn't seem completely immune to his charm. But… Cadash also was rather pragmatic and politically oriented, for all his joviality. He had already drawn ire over allowing Dorian to stay within the Inquisition; he would know better than to expect to take him into his bed without repercussions. Nothing more could come of it than a short dalliance in the dark, with no acknowledgement come the day, and Dorian had already made the decision that he wanted more than that.   
  
Of course he’d never factored in anything like _pining_.   
  
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with that information?” he asked.  
  
The only answer he got was a strange look from a passing scout. Just bloody typical.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: "Dorian flirts with everyone, including women, and especially Cassandra (their party banters are perf ngl), so m!Inquisitor, a little oblivious at the best of times, read it all exactly at face-value and was pining away for a very long time. Like, a-well-after-moving-to-Skyhold-long-time.
> 
> "prefer the company of men" comes as a complete surprise; "I'd thought you were a bit of a fop but I never dared hope--" followed by confessions of mutual pining and, later: all of the sex in the world.
> 
> \+ good-natured teasing about said obliviousness; both parties being extra-mouthy  
> ++ inquisitor feeling very silly and not quite believing his good fortune  
> +++ longest blowjob ever (surprise!hooray!edging hnngh)  
> ++++++ if you can work sharing body-heat in there (this is why you don't leave the door open in the middle of winter, herald) I will love you forever"
> 
> I did not manage very many of the bonus points in the slightest, but I hope that the OP found it satisfying anyway.


End file.
